


An Awful Proposal

by Fericita



Category: Mercy Street (TV)
Genre: F/M, awful proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29807400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fericita/pseuds/Fericita
Summary: @sagiow gave “awful proposal” as a writing prompt, rare pair of my choice.  I’ll let you decide what’s awful about this proposal and who it’s the most awful for; it works as a prequel to Mansion House Murder Mystery and is inspired by the truly awful proposal Major Xavier Leopold gives to Sister Alice Ross-King in Anzac Girls. Thank you @the-spaztic-fantastic for the beta-ing!
Relationships: Alice Green/Percival Squivers
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	An Awful Proposal

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Mansion House Murder](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23384296) by [BroadwayBaggins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BroadwayBaggins/pseuds/BroadwayBaggins), [Fericita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fericita/pseuds/Fericita), [MercuryGray](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercuryGray/pseuds/MercuryGray), [middlemarch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/middlemarch/pseuds/middlemarch), [sagiow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sagiow/pseuds/sagiow), [tortoiseshells](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tortoiseshells/pseuds/tortoiseshells). 



The first time he asked her for a walk along the waterfront, Alice tried to remember his name as she smiled and accepted. Summers? No, that was the older one. This was the one Emma - who had once squealed when she found a dead mouse in her boot and who now had dried blood permanently under her fingernails and a constant ring of muck on her hem - said was eager but afraid to get his hands bloody.

Squale or Squivers or whoever he was pushed his spectacles further up his nose and then reached his hand out like he might touch hers, but then hesitated. He wiped it against his leg instead and then offered her his elbow and she accepted, ducking her head and looking at him from under lashes she could wield as surely as a fan. 

With his uniform coat against her bare arm, her mind flashed to Captain Van Der Berg, his grip tight, his desire to extract the promises she made, his body dead on the hardwood floor. She shivered and Squivers offered to fetch her shawl, but she assured him the breeze wouldn’t bother her, not with such a kind gentleman on her arm. 

The second time he asked for her company it was on the front porch of her house, hoping to entice her to walk through town. She said yes and they walked to the market, Squivers a better disguise than the mourning garb she’d worn on her last errand for the Knights. Mrs. Fairfax gave her a knowing nod over the meager choices the vendors offered and slipped her a note in code that Alice dropped into her reticule. The Yankees hadn’t looked her way at all. 

The third time Percival came to call Pinkerton was headed up the walk a few paces behind him as Percival said something about an officer’s ball and his father securing an invitation for him even though he wasn’t an officer, not yet. Tom had seen all her gowns, had slid his hands along the silk pleats at the bodice, but Percival wouldn’t know a twice turned gown and she found the idea of being beautiful in his eyes appealing, almost as appealing as the prospect of the conversations she might be able to overhear and relay to the Knights later. 

“You’re not repulsed by me,” he said at the ball, standing with her by the refreshment table. “We get on. And I’ll have a promotion soon, and a position at Georgetown when all this is over. The family home is lovely and Father is keen to move north at the end of hostilities so it could be mine - could be ours.” He took her hand so gently and she thought of the dead body in the furniture factory, the missing rug Pinkerton was asking about, the letter to Captain Van Der Berg’s mother that fooled no one, and Frank with a gun on the threshold of the Quaker home. 

Instead of the monster Pinkerton saw when he looked at her, maybe she could be this angel Percival seemed to think she was. She pictured herself in a white gown and then in the cell her father had been tossed in. She knew which she preferred. 

“I’d like that, Mr. Squivers.” He blinked and took a step backwards but she followed him, like a dance. “Nothing would make me happier.”


End file.
